S91587 




OPY 1 



iW-c-SEP 1 1 190 

I Y/ASHlNGTOl^f 


SNAP 


SHOTS. 



BY . . . ; 

MINNIE CURRY STRETCH. 







\ 





\ 






/ 






% 



% 


4 


4 


r 



I "S 


^ { " . 


i 




j’ 


• « •• 




r 





- # 


t 


I 


I 


•% 


%' 




4 


4 



V 


/ 




/ 


% 









» 


-S' 



X 



/ 



s 


•r 



% 


4 



s 





N. 




4 


1 . ^ 



-*vj 


1 


. ^ 


j 




f 





■ i 

% 


t 



V, 


« 

• " 


> ■ 


\ 



r 


I 




• \ 

I, 





4 


! 



I 


A - 




->. ".-r^ 

•■■ • ,. ‘v ■ 



fi* * 



I 


SNAP SHOTS. 


BY 

MINNIE ('UHUY .STRETCH, 


rUBUSHED bV 

CURHY & SON, 


Christy, MOs 
1901 









N 




; • oifi . 

'Jariieg-ie ]jsst. 



< 



N 




•V 




/ 



*1 

1 


I 




\ 



I 


\K 




' .t'r- 






■ V 

-i \- , ' 


V • 


* 


■N 




• ^ ^ ^ 4 'f 


I' 


N 


*/« 


l)ear Friends 

I’m jealous of the simple little pictures 
shown within and ask you not to look unless there 
is within your hearts a sacred place for some 
dear home. 


M. S. 


N 



CONTENTS 


Clouds and Showers, - 

The Father’s Desk. 

XFJL.LE. • 

Bob 

Jennie. 

The Mound in the Meadow. 

Wilton’s Capital. 

The Accident to James. 

Bob’s and Katie’s Contest. 

^The Student’s Log. 

The Cate which Finally Sagged. 

A Sabbath Evening 

Little Annette. 

Aunt Martha. 

By Firelight., 


• 7 

11 

13 

18 

20 

27 

28 

30 

32 

33 

34 

3 ’) 

30 

42 

47 


A GLIMPSi;. 


Sometimes we find individuals wlio unconsciously 
convey the impression that they have, as the world 
expresses it, “seen better days.” 

Some whole families have the bearing of the Kings’ 
Courts and yet have never known luxury ; have never 
had wealth— have scarcely possessed the necessities 
of life. 

This indescribable air of distinction may or may 
not have come because of birth on free American 
soil; some free born American .citizens are bordering 
on serfdom, we grieve to note: and it may or may 
not be that this distinguished air has coiiie to them 
from ancestral nobility or previous iiicariiation in 
Kings’ Courts of the world. We cannot say. 

Blit perhaps it is partly due to the fact that they 
are aware of a present, and a “coming inheritance, 
incorruptable, and that fadeth not away.” 


CLOUDS AND SHOWERS. 


The rain was pouring down in torrents, and rap- 
id little streams were running in beneath both doors. 
A few aggressive drips also were occupying Kate’s 
attention. “This is dismal,” she said to herself. 
“I can hardly keep the folks dry, and this is what 
we term ‘pioneering.’ ‘Pioneering in the new south 
west.’ ” 

“There little one, Katie will take you, yon poor 
little mite,” and she took up a large pillow upon 
which rested a beautiful mite of a child about a 
year old. After caring for it in a soothing, moth- 
erly way she laid it upon one of the beds in the 
little dark cabin, and answered some wild questions 
from Nelle, who was excitedly tossing about under 
the influence of fever. “Father,” she called, “Nelle 
needs you, I think.” The father, who was resting 
on a pallet made on a dry spot on the floor, came 
to the bed. “What is it daughter?” he asked in 
his quieting manner. “0,” said Nelle, at once ma- 
king great pretensions at getting quiet, and talking 


’8 


Snap Shots. 


in a peculiar, affected tone, “I believe I’m going to 
die on tins island. The waves keep sweeping over 
it, and I can’t keep out of the waves. I’m go- 
ing to die, and,” (dolefully), “I’m not prepared. ” 
“Oh well,” said the father, soothingly, “it is ea- 
sy to get prepared. Do j-ou want to be prepar- 
edf” “yes,” said Nelle, sweetly. “Do you be- 
lieve God loves yon?” “Yes.” “Do you love 
<Tod?” “Yes,” said Nelle, very seriously. “And 
do you Ijelieve he’ll take care of you if you die?” 
“Yes,” said Nelle again. “Very well,” said the 
father, “yon are not afraid to die now are you?” 
“No,” said Nelle, quite satisfied. 

Katie sat l>ehind her father tr3dng to quiet the 

now fretting baby. The tears were rolling down 

her cheeks. “Oh this is awfully hard to bear,” 

said the sad and discouraged little Katie to her 
* 

-own burdened self. 

Pretty soon the mother, who was 'also sick with 
fever in the same room, needed some attention, and, 
as she had some desired alteration made about the 
bed, she remarked in very pleasant tones, “Do 
you know, some way this reminds me of Sir Wal- 
ter Scott and the Lady of the Lake;” and then 
she quoted passages concerning Marmion and Doug- 
lass and Sir Khoderic Dhu. 


Clouds and Showers. 


0 


Katie could not help .smiling at the fancy. 

But soon the fractious Nelle, who only a short 
time before had quietly and seriously prepared 
herself to die, flounced out of bed, deliberately 
sat herself in the large rocking chair by the bed 
and began rocking furiously, and racing on in 
this style, “Oh I’m tired, so tired, so tired; cou- 
sin Joe was here to dinner, and I cooked, and 
cooked, and cooked, and rm tired, oh, I’m so 
tired !” 

“Well,” said the father, sympathetically, “it is 
enough to make you tired, you need a rest, the best 
thing for you to do is to lie down and take a good, 
long rest. Here, I’ll help my poor, tired little girl,’’ 
and Nelle, as meek as a lamb, lay down again. 

In the night. Annette, who had been Kate’s main 
stay in all this calamity, grew feverish. Kate had 
foreseen this possible event, and was prepared with 
medicine, which she made Annette take. After a 
while Annette became slightly delirious, and Kate 
determined on trying an experiment. “Annette,” 
she said in firm, stern tones, “don’t dare to talk 
like that again. You art' noi to get the fever, An- 
nette, do you understand? Now take this medicine, 
and don’t dare say another silly thing tonight.” 
“Katie, Katie,” came the father’s voice from the 


xo 


Snap Shots, 


loffc above, know you’re tired, but try to bear 
np patiently a little longer, don’t be so hard on 
Annette.” ‘‘Oh father, I didn’t mean it for hard- 
ness. I was just adndnistering medical treatment 
by will power, that was what 1 was trying,” .she 
explained, “Oh,” said the father, with a shade of* 
amusement in his voice. 

To Kate’s great relief and thankfulness Annette 
was better in the morning, and never took the fever. 

The storm was over. Every thing in nature ap- 
peared as innocent as tho there had been no tur- 
moil of the elements the day before. The days brot 
health to the mother, and to Nelle, and to the little 
pillowed baby, 

So the sunshine followed showers. 

And the smiles displaced the tears, 

And the babe became a sunbeam 
Shedding love-light thru the years. 


/ 


THE FATHER'S DESK. 


’Tis not that small, brown de.sk there by the door, 
that used to be, long years ago, but now is full to over- 
flowing, and locked to keep the sermons and the doc- 
nments from falling out. Nor is it that long desk with 
manuscripts and pamphlets piled, yes, there are pens 
and inks of various kinds, but they're not used, and 
bottles large and small, which hold the various kinds 
of medicine that formerly were used in serious illness, 
now a hygienic way is found and none dares or cares to 
interfere with all these poisonous compounds. They’ll 
sometime take a place no doubt with other curious rel- 
ics of a barbarous age. Yes, these are geologic spe- 
cimens, and those are curios and records of the Pre- 
historic times. 

Then at this table does the Father write ? Oh no ! 
u})on this table are the recent findings on the various 
lines of work ; here are the clippings of accounts of 
buried citie.s, there some precious seed found in some 
ancient burial mound, this a recent map of sunken 
Tula, and here a treatise of Chaldean chemistry and 


hlNAP SHOTI?, 


V2 

4istrologic outlines found in Egypt, this a little bit of 
silver ore from the potato patch, here a story from an 
Indian chief, and on this corner is collected party plat- 
forms — not much room left you see, but here are proof- 
sheets of his coming book. Where is The Father s 
Desk! Weil, — when the muse awakes, and genius* 
•burns, the Father, seated in that old and easy chair 
surrounded by l)is treasures, takes hjs tablet on his 
knee and writes. 


NELLE. 


Nelle stood before the looking glass, which meas- 
ured about 8 by 10, (inches, not feet), and by tilting 
it lip and then back at the lower edge was trying to 
get^a view of her long waist., which at this particular 
time was arrayed in a dress waist turned wrong side 
out and profusely decorated with basting threads and 
pins. ‘O wad some pow’r the gif tie gie us to see 
oursels as others see us ! It wad frae monie a blun- 
der free us and foolish notion,’ ” quoted Nelle. ‘-My 
head reminds me of -^some tall cliff that midw'ay leaves 
the storm,’ for wdien I get to look at the waist line, 
my head is lost to view.” 

‘‘Well,” quietly interposed Jennie, “as long as 
you do not lose your head entirely, we’ll be thankful.” 

Nelle, with a mocking bow, “ ‘words fitly spoken 
are like apples of gold in pictures of silver.’ ‘But 
why don’t you speak for yourself, John'?’ ” 

“Girls, girls, ” exclaimed the mother, who was 
vainly trying to properly locate the sleeve, “how can 
J ever get this fitted with all these bows and squirms? 


14 


Snap Shots. 


If it does not fit, it will be your own fault, Nelle. 
Come back here.” 

“ 'Come back, come back, she cried in grief. Across 
the stormy water. And I’ll forgive your bows and 
squirms. My daughter, oh my daughter,’ ” laughingly 
quoted Nelle, 

Nelle was to go away from home for a time, and the 
all important matter before the family was to get 
Nelle properly clothed. 

Nelle, with her wealth of light brown, wavy hair, 
and the bluest of blue eyes, her clear and fair com- 
plexion and her stateliness of carriage, was the ac- 
knowledged beauty of the family, but she, herself, 
never seemed to be aware of the fact. 

There had been a search thru the family heir- 
looms which had resulted in the bringing forth of 
a number of ancient treasures 5 a certain old leath- 
er trunk of the mother’s furnishing some valuable 
findings. 

Little Annette was busily engaged with the dainty 
trimmings. The mother was cutting and making the 
few new garments that were to be made. Kate was 
remodeling others, and to Nelle was given the task 
of ripping. “ ‘Line upon line, fine upon line, here 
a little and there a little,’ ’•’ quietly remarked Nelle. 

“Nelle, be careful,” said the mother waruingly, 


Nelle. 10 

'^don't be irreverent.” ‘‘‘Seize the truth wherever 
found, oil Christian or on heathen ground,’” wa.s 
Nelle’s prompt excuse. The mother was silent. “ ‘Did 
you see me get the best of him?’ ” whispered the sau- 
cy Nelle in audible tones to Katie. This last quota- 
tion is not contained in the classics. It was from a 
well known cat story in one of Maggie’s picture books, 
and had become a family saying. Annette pointed 
her finger at Nelle, which' immediately produced a 
blush that Nelle quickly tried to hide by throwing 
over her head the available pieces of cloth she had 
ripped, which process was not very succssful as 
little red lines showed between the pieces. 

The mother, half reluctantly, half indulgently smil- 
ed, and the work proceeded. 

“There, ‘ ’tis done, the great transaction’s done, ’ ” 
delightedly exclaimed Nelle, holding up the separated 
pieces. “Nelle, there you go again,” said the moth- 
er, sternly. “Oh mother, I did n’t mean to, I ‘weally 
did n’t, upon my saqued honah’ ” said Nelle, humbly, 

“ Nelle, while ripping that wrapper, must have 
thought she was doing some religious service,” said 
little Annette laughingly. 

■ “She loolted as tho she might have been doing pen- 
ance,” remarked Kate. 

“Oh Nellibon, Nelle,” came the muffled voice of 


IG 


Snap Shots. 


Jennie from the fruit house, 

“‘Hark!’” exclaimed Nelle, “‘from yon misty 
cairn a voice to me is toat.’ ‘Adieu, adieu, kind 
friends, adieu, I can stay no longer here with you. 
I will liang my harp on a weeping willow tree, and 
hid the world go well with thee.’ ” 

After a while the doors were left open, and Nelle 
was seen in the kitchen preparing the evening meal - 
porridge. “’Boil caldron boil, boil and bubble, boil 
and bubble,’ ” were the words which came in awful 
tones from the kitchen. “Oh that girl,” said the 
mother, tenderly.. 

After a long and patient application to the task in 
hand, Nelle’s wardrobe was complete, and she, arrayed 
in one of her most becoming costumes, stood before 
the family for their final words of criticism. 

Maggie, who had been absorbed in her papers and 
pictures, looked up, and seeing Nelle, made a rush 
towards her and impulsively hugged her. Nelle, state- 
ly and unresponsive, cooly remarked, “Maggie loves 
my pretty dress not me,” and tlie affectionate little 
Maggie reached up to the haughty one and kissed her 
again and again. Nelle folded her arms around the 
little Brownie and patted and loved her to her l^eart’s 
content, then danced off singing a snatch fram an old 
college song. “ ‘Nut brown maid and she has no slen- 


Nelle. 


17 


der waist to clasp. Nut brown maid and slie has a 
natural waist.’ ” 

The last nig-ht before Nelle’s departure she stood 
out under the trees alone, taking a silent farewell. 
Glancing up thru the leafy trees she said, reverent- 
ly, ‘Silently, one by one in the infinite meadows of 
Heaven, blossom the lovely stars, the forget-me-nots 
of tlie angels.’ ” Then after a little pause, “ ‘I have cal- 
led thee by thy name thou art mine saith the Lord,’ ” 
then very tenderly, “ ‘Wilt thou w^atch between me 
and these,’ ” (with a little sweep of her hand toward 
the house), “ ‘while we are absent, one from another.’ ” 


One night, long years ago, the father drew some j 
shadow pictures on the wall. With mixed embar^ 
rassment and pleasure the “Little Deacon’s” tongue 
peeped out between his Ups, the father drew it trutln 
fully. Wee Nelle looked on, and gleefully remarked,. ' 
“How iusonent (innocent) he looks!” 

‘Twas a northern winter, and out upon the frozen 
lake the wind blew sharp and stinging. A little boy 
trudged bravely by his sister’s side, at last the numb- 
ing cold delayed hjs steps; the child was freezing. 
Swift and vigorously the sister rubbed, with snow, 
the freezing hands and face of the uncomplaining 
“Little Comrade.” A good Samaritan, (a Frenchman 
with a sleigh), came just in time, and they availed 
them of his gracious ‘‘roidez rous.” 

The father apd a willing young assistant had labor- 
ed thru a long and busy day, At dusk the father 
took a walk into the field for meditation, alone. When 
lo ! from out the gathering darkness a gentle , childish 
voice intruded on his thot, “What more is there to 


Bob. 


19 


do?” The father turned and saw the earnest, smiling, 
upturned face of ‘‘Little Helper.” 

The mother coming from a rare and restful visit 
with a friend, one afternoon, spied over in the rough- 
®est corner of the farm, a slender, dark haired lad at 
work. The team was rough, the plow most rudely 
jerked the “Little Man” from side to side. The moth- 
er picked her way thru brush, and stumps and stones, 
and when at last her coming was discovered, a pleased 
and grateful smile spread o’er his sun-browned face, 
because the mother cared and came. 

And now, a boy no longer is our Bob, A' wealth 
of straight, black hair, a high, white brow, a quiet 
dignity and modesty become him well. 

The old folk in the neighborhood enquire most ten- 
derly and often of the mother, “When did you hear 
from Bob?” The gentle, careful, patient, trustwor- 
thy Bob ; the noble, steadfast, honored Bob, who 
dares a “yes” or “no” for conscience sake tho every 
one may scoff. 

Thus may he evermore remain, to frieiul and prin- 
ciple as true as steel. 


JENNIE. 


Jennie donnel her broad-brimmed, red, felt hat, a 
style one might see among the cowboys of western 
Indian Territory, a pair of long boots, and a man’s old 
overcoat, and strode out into the rain and wind to- 
wards the barn, whistling ‘‘Cotton Blossoms” in the 
merriest style. 

In the barn her whistling ceased. Too intense were 
her feelings to keep them all to herself, and the folks 
felt bad enough, and perhaps even Antioc and Ephesus 
might feel bad, too, after hearing all the trouble, but 
they could stand it if she could. 

“Too bad, the boys have to shake the very life out 
of them in those treacherous chills. Here Antioc, 
your harness needs mending. I’ll take McGuffy’s 
bridle for you. There now Ephesus, you'' re ready. 
Back out here my friends, we’ve got to go, rain or 
shine, sink or swim, (and it looks like swim), survive 
or perish, and I say it will be survive.” 

“Whoa there, we’ve got to fix the hack. It never 
rains but it pours, true enough this time,” 


Jennie, 


‘J1 

Just thsii the Tiiother called from the house, ‘‘JeU’ 
nie, hadn't you better come in, you’ll be soaking 
wet.” ••Oh I’m all right,” replied Jennie. The door 
closed. ‘‘Now,” she continued to herself, •‘this hack 
has got to be fixed, and that right shortly, too, and 
where, oh where, shall I begin ? This rain will be good 
for that wheel, ITl put a little board in here^ — a few 
nails and a hammer and I’m all right.” And with 
surprising speed, in spite of big boots and wet gar- 
ments, she brot from the tool chest jn the barn her 

' I 

required articles. 

'•It will be dark long before I get home, I suppose, 
but that can’t be helped ; with Antioc and Ephesus I’m 
all right day or night.” 

‘•Too bad we should run out of ei^fri/ thing all at 
once. And where in the name of all that’s mysterious 
is the money coming from to buy those needed arti- 
cles? That is what I would like to know.. Oh Plu- 
tocracy, anathemas I heap upon tluee!” 

‘^Antioc and Ephesus, we’re ready, and so is the 
hack.” 

A jaunty little hat, and an equally jaunty little 
jacket were .carefully wrapped up in an oil cloth lap- 
robe. then Jennie donned her storm skirt, and with a 
change of foot wear she was off for town, six miles 
^\yay , still wearing her red hat and big coat. ■‘bStrange 


Snap Shots. 


22 

how we can live on and on in thi.s miraenlons fashion. 
Now where can that money be from that father says 
will be at the office? I don’t think he knew a tiling 
about it yesterday, nor even early this morning. He 
didn’t go any place today to find out any such news. 
He was alone in his room a long time this forenoon. 
Well, I have no doubt but that I’ll get that letter. T 
suppose, theologically speaking, that is Faith, and 
electrically speaking, it is Telepathy, I wonder if this 
electrical storm made it any easier for father to know 
that letter was there.” 

“Easy lads, go easy down this hill, that brake does 
no more good than sprinkling a Tiard shell’ preach- 
er, well, maybe that was uncalled for, I guess it 
was, nothing called for such a remark. Not a Tiard 
shell’ at any rate on such a day as this, that religious 
sect is always afraid of waster which comes from 
above. ’ ’ 

Here she was greeted by an unexpected, “Howdy,” 
as an unknown* man on horseback passed her, too 
much astonished at the unusual sight to think of the 
universal greeting until almost passed, which neglect 
would have been an unpardonable breach of etiquette. 

Jennie, as he passed, found herself saying the old 
childish jinglg, ‘Toady, toady, howdy ye do? I’m 
quite well md how are you? I’m quite well and how 


Jexme. 23 

is tbv nei£?hbor next to thee? I don't know but I’ll go 
and see.’ ’’ 

Urging Antio? and Ephesus into a brisker gait, she 
began wdiistling “Dixie” and from that to other and 
then other pieces. 

• ^ What a comfort it is to me to whistle ! How thank- 
ful I am that mother did not put a stop to it as she 
thot possibly she ought. 

Father was right there too. Queer the other girls 
can’t whistle, and it is so easy for me, and Kate really 
thinks I can whistle well, better than almost any one 
she ever heard. Oh how I wash I could get all the 
music I wanted just for once ! Y<js, Ephesus, that’s 
what I said. If I might, oh if I only might, hear a 
brass band sometimes or a glee club, and if I only 
could have a guitar or a mandolin. Tra la la la, Tra 
la la la, la la. Might as well cry for Jupiter and all 
his moons. Let me see. I’m twenty, twenty from 
seventy leaves fifty. I wonder if it is really asking 
too much of Wail Street to be allowed sometime dur- 
ing the next fifty years to hear all the good music that 
it will require to satisfy my music craving soul.” 

“Whoa hoi’.ses, I guess it is time to attire.” A few 
minutes later a tall, trim figure briskly entered the 
post office and addressing the well known post master 
enquired, ‘’Is there a registered letter here for my 


24 


Snap Shots. 


father?” ‘‘Ye-^, I believe there Ls,” came the friendly 
reply. 

On her lonely drive home she meditated thu.s : 
“Strange that it wa.s only enough for our absolute 
needs. ‘Sufficient unto tlie day is the evil thereof.’ oh, 
no, that is the wrong one. ‘Give us tliis day our dai- 
ly bread,’ that is better.” 

“How dark it is. My friends, we must watch out 
for that wash-out on the side hill. It was pretty bad 
when w'e came out. I’m glad it isn't raining now, but 
it is pretty cloudy. Well, I wonder where those 
voices are — coming this way or not — I would like to 
know. I don’t like the sound of them. Too mucli la- 
den with wluskey to suit my fastidious fancy, I fear. 
Goming this way too, as sure as I’m in a big hat. 
Good. I never thot of my attire. I might be Bob 
for all they can tell in this dim liglit, and I know 
they’d let Bob alone no matter who they are. Five 
of them, all drunk, guess I’ll whistle a little. Kacing 
their horses too — hope they won’t run into my char- 
iot.” 

“Hello there, that you Bob?’’ called out one of the 
men. “Got a load I see. Didn’t recken’ize ye at fii.^t. 
dolly dark for travelin’,” continued the friendly horse- 
man. “Want a ‘wanner,’ Bob?’’ called another of 
the men. “Nah,” emphatically replied the supposed 


Jennie. 


Bob, ‘-'warm enough.’’ “Better come ’u’ go home with 
us,” called a third, and on rode the reckless, drunken 
rowdies ; and Jennie, wiping the perspiration from 
her forehead, remarked, “Yes, plenty warm J thank 
3'ou.” 

The father listened anxiously, and was relieved as 
he heard the old hack and Jennie’s familiar whistle. 
“I guess every thing is all right after all,” he said. 

Jennie patted Antioc and Ephesus as she unhar- 
nessed them and gave them their supper, then carried 
in the provisions. 

“Get along all right, daughter! ’ enquired the fath- 
er. ‘-All right,” replied Jennie. “Get all the things?” 
“Got all the thing’s.” “Money there, was it!” “Mon- 
ey was there.” “Any left!” “Not a cent.” “Ha, 
ha,” laughed the father with real good heartedness,' 
and then quite briskly he said, “Well now, I sup- 
pose the boys would be the better of a little of Jen- 
nie’s cargo before they sleep. They’ve had a pretty 
hard day, poor fellows. Well Jennie, I’m gladyou 
had no trouble. I was afraid you might encounter 
some drunken rowdies on their way from town, but it 
has been such a disagreeable day maybe they didn’t 
g-o to town.” 

“Jennie Maria, you’re the main-sail of this craft, 
sure as you live, and I guess you c-an stand that much 


2G 


Snap Shots. 


flattery,” said Jennie to lierself as she prepared for 
]>ed. “It did me g(X)d to see those boys eat their sup- 
per. I do hope they will not chill any more.” 

“But I say, Jennie Maria, father’s telepathy near- 
ly got hold of that highway act, now didn’t it? 

Well, I’m ready for a good rest and sleep after my 
twelve mile constitutionah Jennie the whistler snaps 
lier fingers at plutocrats to-night.” 

And softly whistling “Faith, faith is the victory 
that overcomes the world,” Jennie made ready for 
bed. Soon the brave little woman was asleep and 
all unconscious of the beautiful picture she made as 
her soft, dark brown, curling hair wandei'ed over the 
pillow and caressed her white throat and the beauti- 
ful white of her oval face. With one long, slender 
band thrown with unmeditated grace up upon the pil- 
low, and a happy smile playing around the rose bud 
lips, perhaps she dreamed of the music she so fondly 
loves ^ 


THE MOUND IN THE MEADOW. 


There's a mound in the meadow, in the corner of 
tlie meadow to the right. “ Fine plaee,” you say, “ for 
building.” Well — perhaps — ‘I never thot of that. 

There was a time in days and years gone by, when 
hopes were builded, hopes and fancies too, more beau- 
tiful and bright than castled hails. 

The hopes were shattered, and the supposition was 
that they were buried in that mound. 

You look surprised. “ God’s ways are not our ways,” 
you know, ‘‘nor are his thots our thots.” 

These hopes w^ere just transferred from this world 
to another. 

Perhaps there w’as a need of cherubs there in some 
great mansion in the spirit world, and it may be that 
wlien the shadowed vale is travelled thru some little 
cherub arms will reach a loving welcome, and will 
guide the new arrivals thru the heavenly ho.sts. 


WILTON'S CAPITAL 


Most of it was inherited. If estimated in dollars 
and cents by the average accountant, Wilton would 
not have ranked among the plutocrats. 

To form an estimate of his capital by the value of his 
labor would be an injustice. But Wilton had resour- 
ces. undeveloped, to be sure, but valuable and abundant., 
Wilton was tall and of fine physique, fair and good 
to look upon. Blue were his eyes as the beautiful 
heavens he delighted to gaze into, his hair was one 
great abundant confusion of waves and curls. His 
hands were large and white wiHi soft, smooth palms, 
unless welted by plow handles or burned in the sun.. 

About the middle of the forenoon, Wilton might be 
seen going to work, dressed in a laborer's garb, to be- 
sure, but with the leisurely step of a capitalist. 

In his hands might be an ax, the handles of a plow, 
or even a hoe, but his eyes would be upon some pecu- 
liar insect or leaf. He would often stop the team 
when plowing or mowing to chase after some fleet- 
footed animal or swift winged insect. On returning 
to the house, the father would as-k, ‘‘Well, my son, 


Wilton’s Capital. 


29 


did you get thru?” sir, not quite,” would 

come Wilton’s easy reply. “Why, what was the mat- 
ter! Have some break down?” “No sir.” It could 
clearly be seen that other matters claimed Wilton’s 
thot more than farming. 

All available spaces were decorated with drawings 
of horses, birds, rabbits, flowers, etc. and there was 
unmistakable merit in the work. 

The family appreciated all these indications of ar- 
tistic tulent, but it furnished them with a problem 
they knew not how to solve. Art teachers grew en- 
tliusiastic over him ; but where was his cash in hand 
capital ! Where was his labor to produce it? 

Would this inherited capital — this personal artistic 
gift — ever be developed wdthout muscular labor, and 
would not this muscular labor in uncongenial occupa- 
tions forever destroy the possibility of being an artist? 

If labor could develop capital in order that capital 
might develop labor — artistic labor — then Wilton's 
problem would be solved. 

In the mean time he will “bask and ripen,” he will 
“fill his veins with sunshine,” and take the “winds 
into his pulses.” 

The songs of birds will nourish him. 

The mountains, streams and sunsets will his com- 
panions be, and all the wealth of Wall Street cannot 
match his capital. 


THE ACCIDENT TO .lAKES. 


Many a boy has unjustly been called shiftless, or 
no’count, or some such uncomplimentary term, when 
really his l>rain was in a condition of intense activity, 
and he was evolving plans, deciding problems, and 
maturing character at such a rate that it might well 
put some muscle-active critic to shame. 

The so-called indolent James had been gone a long 
time. He had supposedly gone for the cows. After 
an exasperatingly long time to his mother, who sat 
wearily waiting with sleep drooping eyelids for ‘‘that 
boy” to come with the milk, so she might strain it 
and get to bed, James arrived limping extraA^egantly. 

Wide awake in a minute, the mother anxiously eu- 
(piired, “Why James, what is the matter?” James, 
with an assumed indifference, and in a semi-nasal 
drawl, explained, “Oh that prehistoric cow kicked 
me on my plutocratic bone, and I was forced to eat 
grass like Nebuchadnezzar the king. Tm afraid it is 
going to throw me into an Allopathic fever if I don’t 
have enough populistic competition to hypnotize it.” 


The Accident To James. 


31 


“James,” exclaimed the mother iu bewildermeut 
and anxiety, “do you need any pulsatilla, or sweet 
oil or liniment I mean?” 

“No,” replied James in apparent disgfust, “hut I do 
need a black-eyed girl to hold my hand, and rub my 
head.” 

And the mother, with an impatient toss of her head, 
threw off her solicitous sympathy, strained what re- 
mained of the milk after the prehistoric episode and 
went to bed. 

James, being a hydropath at the time, took a buck- 
et of cold water to his room and probably bathed his 
plutocratic bone. 

The problems of his life work lie before him-^reli- 
geous, political, artistic, scientific, and social, he will 
solve them all to his own satisfaction, and then stand 
by his decision, he, and with him perhaps the black- 
eyed girl. 


BOB’S AND KATIE'S (X)NTEST. 


’Twas with no maddening rush for precedence that 
Hob and Katie took their stand beween those two long 
rows of peach trees. 

The revelry in the free and lucious juiciness of 
peach precluded any tendancy to selfishness. 

With freedom born alone of confidence, of sympa- 
thy, these tw'o munched on, and talked; stepped to 
another tree, selected here and there a tempting peach, 
munched on; filled up the pockets, hat, or apron, as 
the case jnight be, sat down in some clean, shady 
nook, delightedly munched on ; and when their store 
was gone, got up and made another raid, and slowly 
wending towards the house, they talked and ate, and 
as they talked, they walked and ate, and as they ate, 
they talked and ate, and Avalked and ate, .and ate. 

The only judges of these contests xvere the bees, and 
birds, and ants, and flowers, and trees. 


THE STUDENT’S LOG. 


The log is walnut, and those large, dark trees sur- 
rounding it are walnut. Why called the students log? 
Oh, no reason, perhaps, at all. ’Tis probable that 
other folks have tarried there, and talked the pleasant 
summer hours away. But true it is that many stu- 
dents seeking geologic stores, or to enrich herbariums, 
altho vacation time, have, after digging here and 
climbing there, wandered unerring to this sweet, 
secluded spot to rest. They talked of frivolous things ? 
— .perliaps, — but with the solemn, voiceless grandeur 
all around, we doubt it, ’Tis probable their voices 
blended with the whispering of the leaves, and they 
talked of sentiments, ambitious, and of love. 


✓ 


THE (iATE 

WHICH FINALLY .SA(i(iEI). 

[t was intended that it never should sag, and it was 
supposed that it never would. It was built somewhat 
after the plan of the gate described in Tennyson’s 
“Princess;” at least an illustrated copy of that poem 
contains a picture bearing a striking resemblance to 
this particular gate. 

This gate you see is high, and made of narrow pick- 
ets the cross pieces are also narrow, with not so much 
space as comfortably to rest even an elbow upon, if 
they had been in elbow.reach. 

It is a double gate, without a center post, and so 
if leaned against affords no firm support. 

And yet this gate has sagged, It used to be the 
only gate by which to enter, and while there Avas no 
warning such as Tennyson’s gate proclaimed, “Let 
no man enter in on pain of death,’’ some modifications 
of the same seemed understood, And so, perchance, 
it happened thgt, with man without and maid within, 
this gate became o’er powered in a sentimental sense, 
and, in its vain endeavor to escape the stigma of a 
‘‘go-between,” it swayed both back and forth and 
finding only failure in this course, it drooped its lofty 
top in siiamecl confusiou. 


A SATSBATII EVEN[N(J. 


The children linger near, the mother reads some 
bright and sparkling story, with a moral at the end. 
On some new word or phrase opinions differ, the moth- 
er hies away to Webster’s Unabridged. Victoriously 
she reads, and all acknowledge she was right at first. 

'Tis after that sometime the mother winds the clock. 
Attention you, who thru the sagging gate have found 
a way. ’Tis time that all wise folk were safe in bed. 

A song or two is sung, and then the mother leads 
them in the following favorite hymn : 

“I will sing yon a song of that beautiful land. 

The far away home of the soul. 

Where no storms ever beat an the glifteriiig strand. 
While the years of eternity roll,” 

’Tis quiet now, the mother and the father are alone. 
The day has been a restful one. The mother sits with 
folded hands upon her lap. 

The father tenderly repeats the tliot of olden time : 
‘•Her children shall rise up and call her hUssed.” 
‘•Her husband’s heart doth safely trust in her. 
What need hath he of spoil? Hath she not done him 
good and only good thru all their wedded days ?” 


LITTLE ANNETTE. 


_ “Are you very busy daughter?” tenderly enquir- 
ed the Father of little Annette, who was knitting 
some filmy lace of unique pattern, 

“No, not at all. What is it you want me to do?’’ 
was her quick reply. 

“I would like you to help me a little this after- 
noon if you can spare the time. I have a few dates 
that must be filled in, and a few references to look 
up, and some little corrections to make. I had on a 
full head of steam when I last wrote, and had no time 
to wait.” Annette smiled half mischievously, she 
knew what that meant, and giving her little lame arm 
a swing or two to relieve its numbness, was ready for 
business. “Now daughter, first give me the Septua- 
gint date of Noah's flood, now Archbishop Usher’s, — 
ail right ; now give me the supposed date of the sink- 
ing of Tula (iemarm),- Atlantis, — all right; now give 
me the supposed date of the formation of the Rocky 
Mountains, — all right.” All these had been given by 
Annette with perfect confidence, and without a mo- 
ment’s hesitation. “Now Annette,” her father contin- 


LmvE Annette. 


S7 


ued. ‘ ‘perhaps I should have a reference here. Look in 
Katie’s geology about the 60th page, — all right. Now 
I want to see a map in Guyot’s Physical Geography — 
Thermal lines — that is it. Look here Annette, this 
southern part of Texas must go under, there is no 
help for it, and the time is not far distant. But peo- 
ple are no more ready to listen now than they were 
in Noah’s time before the sinking of Tula.” 

“Now please get Schoolcraft’s Indian Legends and 
read a passage where I have placed a mark.” In rapid, 
clear tones Annette read the selection. “Now turn to 
Longfellow’s Hiawatha, just any place, and read.” 
“Why, isn’t that strange!” said Annette, looking up 
in surprise. 

“What?” said the Father smiling. 

“The striking similarity.” 

“Well, now read an extract from my Minnebijuth.” 
Tliis she did, and looking up exclaimed, “Why, they 
are alike, and such a peculiar meter too.” 

“Yes, and the strangest thing is that each of these 
was written without any knowledge of the other.” 

“I believe,” said Annette, “that Oliver Wendell 
Holmes says something about this very thing,” and 
uncurling herself from her comfortable position in the 
big chair, she went to her section of the big book 
case, and rapidly turning over the leaves of a book 


38 Snap Shots. 

read the following:: “Hiawatha raised a storm of 
enthusiasm and literary controversy as to the cause 
of its success and its probable permanence, Longfel- 
low called the poem ‘An Indian Edda.’ The scene 
was among the Ojibeways near Lake Superior, the 
tncter is rhymless trochaic tetrameter. Dr. O. W. 
Holmes has given an ingenious explanation of the 
popularity of this meter on physiological grouildsi^’ 
“Well now isn’t that annoying, it never tells aftel' 
all what his ingenious explanation was,” said Annette. 

“I wish it had,’’ .said the Father. “Well now daugh- 
ter, I beliov’e I’m ready for the corrections; we must 
have it correct, but I beg of you be lenient.” 

“Well Father,” began Annette in apologetic tones, 
“you know I just must furnish you with enough 
Verbs.” 

“Yes, yes, 1 suppose you must,” he said laughingly, 
‘‘and I’ll try to bear up under it, tho you do spoil 
iny nice sentences woefully sometimes. Well here’s 
my manuscript,” and half reluctantly the Father pas- 
sed it to the relentless little critic who hunted down 
illusive parts of speech with astonishing rapidity and 
unerring success. 

“Here are three clauses with verbs understood,” 
quickly announced Annette. 

“There are!” said the Father in amazement. 


Little Annette. 


3 !) 


“Yes, aud here is a whole page without a pimc'tua- 
tioii mark, but that is soon remedied.” 

“Now here is a line I do not quite understand ; it has 
a double meaning ; which do yon wish it to convey 

••Why not let it convey both!” 

“Can’t do that.” 

“Why not!” 

“Can’t punctuate it to make it read both ways.” 

“Why not leave it without punctuation then!” 

“That wouldn’t do.” 

‘•Why not?” 

“Well, we have no authority to do that way,” 

“Yes we have.” 

“What is it!” 

••Poetic license,” said the Father triumphantly. 

“Oh that wouldn’t do here.” 

“Why not!” persisted the Father, 

••Because, well because poetry requires punctuation 
as much as prose, and there is no rule whereby writers 
of either poetry or prose can, at will, drop punctua- 
tion marks.” 

“Well let me see it,” said the Father. “Annette, it 
is a pity to spoil such a broad sentence as that, but I 
suppose you must put in some mark there. Why not 
put all three, the exclamation first, then the question 
mark, and then the period!” 


40 


Snap Shots. 


‘‘Oh! oh! oh!” laughed Annette, “that would be 
worse. ’ ’ 

“Why no it wouldn’t. It would be all right, just a 
new departure that is all. I believe I’ll do that.” 
At which conclusion he really did. Annette’s face had 
grown thoughtful and serious. The Father reached 
over once more and erased two of the marks leaving 
only the period. Annette’s face lighted up. 

“That will do for this time, Annette. I hope I have 
not tired you.” said the Father tenderly. 

As Annette left the room, he picked up a little pa- 
per on which she had been writing that morning, and 
smiled as he read the following lines : — 

Ode to the House Fly. 

A Wail. 

“Flee oh thou fly ! nor trouble me more. 

There are the windows and there is the door. 

You prey on my food and you traverse my face ' 

And you cover my hands when I’m crocheting lace. 

- Flee oh thou fly ! you have troubled me long. ' 

I fret at tliy touch and I fume at thy song. 

Spare me, I pray, from this fly-chasing strife, 

For oh ! you are making me^weary of life. 


Little Annette. 


41 


Flee oil tliou fly ! my fly-traps seem vain, 

For tlio hundreds I catch, you seem not to wane. 

Tho fiercely I fan and tho wildly I wave, 

The terrible, troublesome fly won’t behave.” 

A. 

Gradually the tender smile wore away and a look 
of anxiety took its place. there nothinj? I can 

do for my precious little girl!” he murmured. “She 
grows weaker every day. How can I bear to see my 
frail darling suffer so ; my persistent little searcher 
after truth, my bright and busy, loving daugliter 
leave me!” 

But one bright day Annette went on a journey, 
and then it was she met a Great Physician ; and now 
Annette is well and happy in a healthful clime. 

The Father sighs no more, and while he misses her, 
he loves her, and he would not have her back. He is 
making plans to see her, some glad day. Her other 
loved ones too have urgent invitations to join her 
there to spend a happy, grand Eternity. 


AUNT MARTHA. 


Katie had been away from home for a long tilre^ 
hot had at last returned, much to_ the satisfaction of 
Aunt Martha, who was sick. T^es, there had always 
been a particularly close affinity between the two, 
even when Kate was a mere 1 :aby. 

Auntie had iieA’er been well, poor little woman, but 
never had she been known to be sick in bed, except- 
ing one time when she had had a bad fall and dislo- 
cated some bones. 

Hut now it was different some w^ay, she who was 
usually impatient was now cpiite patient and compar- 
atively cheerful, and as full of humor as ever. No 
sickness dwelt with Auntie, except the sickness of 
her frail little body. 

“Katie, I wish you would sit over there a little far- 
ther.’’ 

“All right. Auntie, was I in your light?” 

“No, I just want to look at you, it does me good 
to see you sitting there once more.” 

Katie swallowed the lump rising in her throat, 
(queer thing, that lump any way), and, smiling at 


Aunt Martha. 


43 


tlie dear, loving face, moved to the desired place. 

“What is that you’re fixing, Katie?” 

‘‘Oh, I’m trying to get the boys’ flannel underwear 
mended.” 

^‘Well it is a good idea, for they’ll need them soon. 
I’d make that bigger, and I believe I’d double it, that 
patching stuff is so thin it is hardly worth the thread 
you sew it on with. Have you mended any for youi- 
father?” 

“Yes.” 

Well I’m thankful for that, for I was wondering 
about them last night. I hop©^ — but I don’t want to 
wear you out.” 

“Now Auntie, tell me what it is.” 

‘‘Well, I was wondering if you would get time to 
make over a school jacket for that young lady over 
there,” and she nodded to little Maggie who was 
Inisily writing to one of her school mates. 

“Why yes, of course I’ll have time, the question 
is, will I be able to do it well enough?” 

‘‘Oh, I know fine you can do it well enough. Where 
iire you going now?” 

“Only out to prepare your dinner.” 

‘‘Oh, all right,” and she smiled cheerily into her 
face. 

“8ay, Katie, come here, I want to a.sk you some- 


44 


Snap Shots. 


tiling,” and then in low and confidential tones and 
measured words, Are-yon-getting-enongh-to eat!” 

“Why Aunt Martha, of course I am, don’t yon know 
what an appetite I always have! What made you 
think of that!” 

“Well, yon look so lank.” 

“Oh, that is because I’ve had so many teeth drawn 
out my cheeks have drawn in.” 

“Oh, you haven’t had any teeth drawn out of your 
stomach. I tell you, you look lank from head to foot. ’ ’ 
“Well Auntie, I guess it can’t he helped, I have plen- 
ty to eat, and have a good appetite.” 

“Well, maybe yon haven’t enough clothes on. I 
suppose yon are going around here these cool morn- 
ings with not half enough on. Maybe that’s the rea- 
son you look so lank.” 

“Well Auntie, you know I am warm blooded.” 
“Yes, very, where do you I'eep your warm blood!” 
“Well really, Auntie, I’m quite comfortable.” 
“Well, I suppose it is all right, ”, (doubtfully). 

“Oh wait, don’t go just yet, I’m not quite thru. 
If you’ll go upstairs to my leather trunk, down at the 
left hand side at the back, you’ll find a little basket 
with a cover on it, and in that you’ll find a siuall' 
jar of strawberrv preserves, and I wish you would 
bring it down for your father. And tell Nelle that 


Aunt Martha. 


45 


there are lemons and sugar and eggs — now it will be 
a miraele if those eggs are not spoiled — and spices in 
my black valise hanging up behind the door in the 
stairway, and maybe she’ll feel inclined to make a 
cake; for she’s the lady that can— and— well I’ll tell 
you the rest when you come back, only tell your 
mother I’d like to see her. I don’t want any thing 
of her, but I just want to stop her from her work. 
If I didn’t call her away once in a while I believe she 
would work out there forever.” 

Katie goes out and closes the door. 

“Maggie, Maggie, you there? All right. I wish 
you would peep into the log cabin parlor and see if 
your father is there reading or writing, and see if 
the fire in the fire-place is going well, and come back 
and tell me. Now don't forget to come back.” 

As Katie returns with the little dinner — the mere 
semblance of a dinner, for months had passed since 
this dear little woman had eaten as other people eat — 
Auntie praises her for her quickness and praises every 
thing that is brot her. Suddenly she looks up and 
asks, “Is Jennie dead, or married!” 

“Neither, why?” 

“Oh, I haven’t seen a shade of her to-day.” 

“Well, I never thot to tell you she went off early 
this morning to try to hire one of the Joneses down 


4(5 


Snap Shots. 


on tlie river,” 

‘•She didn’t ride that skearv horse, I liope?” 
“Yes. .she did, hut .she's not afraid.” 

“No that's so, if any body can manage that liorse 
it is Jennie. Jennie's a noble g'irl.” 

Auntie's days of loving, devoted service were soon 
completed ; but Katie thinks, and who can prove 
she’s wrong, that the beautiful, unselfish spirit of the 
dear Aupt iMartha is often ne.ai’ P^nd sympathetic 

Still, 


BY FIHELKillT. 


Cxaily aucl noisily dance the flames in the old stone 
fire-place. Daring little flames play games of chance 
among the sticks of wood. One stick slips now a lit- 
tle, and out there scurries a bevy of fire elfs. Some 
leap up and touch the flaky soot upoirthe stones, leav- 
ing tiny, bright spots here and there upon the dark 
background, like constellations in the heavens, now 
arranged, now re-arranged, now re-arranged again. 

Some fussy, spluttering, old wood sprite frets at the 
troublesome familiarity of the coquettish little flames, 
but after a long contemptuous ‘‘sciss,” succumbs, and 
then the saucy little flames, with lavish and aggres- 
sive care, tease, caress, and smother it. . 

To the right, the father sits. No droop of age ])e- 
trays his years. His earnest blue grey eyes deny the 
fact his snowy hair has told, A tender, happy soul 
lights up his intellectual face. 

Upon his knee sits — ^Kate, done up in smaller pack- 
age. To the left, the grey haired mother, rounded 
now to comely plumpness, sits in restful, tender thot. 
and Maggie’s curly head rests near her own. 


48 


Snap Shots. 


Upon the floor before the fire, there moves a boy, 
a well beloved and blnndering boy, and he is gazed 
upon with glances kind and fond. For is he not like 
Fob, and now like James, and now much more like 
Wilton? 

Tlie boy is popping corn, and trying to keep still, 
bnt poker, wood, and rngs combine to tangle np his 
feet and make him nnsnccessful. 

A little in the shadow towards the right, reclines 
our Kate, a little pale and thin and grey, bnt happy, 
for this is home, and Jennie, Nelle, and James are 
playing all her favorite songs. ^Vliat sweet interpre- 
tation James conveys upon his violin ! The tall and 
graceful forms of Jennie and of Nelle express a mu- 
sic no less sweet— a harmony of beautiful, unselfish 
lives. All think of Bob and Wilton many, many miles 
away. The loved Annette is missed, and dear Aunt 
Martha too. A happy, sweet reunion may there be 
some glad, new time. 

The corn is popped; the boy sits in the corner, 
plump, and fast asleep. The corn has disappeared; 
the wee and precious package on the father’s knee is 
wrapped in white. The fairy flames have vanished, 
Tliere glows a bed of coals. The music floats away. 
Dear ones ’tis time to say Good night. Good night, 
Good night. Sweet sleep and pleasant dreams, 






' i \ 

•f - 

' I » * » # r 




a ^ 




* ^ 


y ^ •' 

> . *%. ’ '< ' 




• V 



. ; 


^ ^ 

/ < > • 




•f »» 




/'.>* 


V » 




V 

V » 


V/*: 


^. 4 : 


.% 

^ ^ 




'-♦V' . 


r*-' 


.*A 


' 1 ^ 

'k-- - -J : 

• ‘V>- I ^ , 

> j 5 ^ - ^ ' -• . r, 

■ • - •■-- ■;• • 


"1 ^ . 


V 

• *•• 


V> 

, r ^ 

■ 4 • 


J ■ 






fic ''-k. , • 


• \ 




. V 




.. 

t 

> ^ 


i 


f 

:-• ^ 




. V o ' 


/ •• 


. f 
is. 


> 4 




.V., . ^ 


A ^ s ^ ^ ^ 

^ A'.; 

. . , 'f ■■' 




5 r y 


fC *1%’^ - ^ 

rr^ J 




« 

.' / i 






» 


5 ^ ^ 


■ix- 


/ 

N 


• < ■ ■ 


0 













> 

* > 


• 'A . * 


• ^ 4 


• % 




i} 


0 •« 
i ^ 


A> ' 




■> 


0 ^ m 


V - 


• I 


*. :\' 


>- *• 


. k 


. . S-- 

r* » .> 


^ i 




« 1 


\ 

I 


. r 


• * W «P^ 

/ " 




C 

_1 


/ - .s :••< :■ 

* • 


s ’- ^ • ' ..' 

• if ' . • • 


^ V'. ■ 


•N 


u 

\ 


* V 


A 




« • 


•■•• •) :vfj''^^ I* 

• ' * ^ \ 9 

^ 4- ^ < C 

' >' *: r- yv^' 

. , . » ^-S \; 


: / 


r N. r 

■.^ i '■ 


. ’ • 


0 

4 < 





.-. I'i.- ' --t^ ' ■ ^ r - ■ - ■•,. -'r '- 

^I'i Vi' '■'■ ■ .. . Z~A’^ ■■-i ■. . -: ,. 

- . ' ' • ■ ■' •- '"•■ i-'L. ' v' ^ 

■ • ■ •. ' - V,,- ^=.;4..‘’ crV' 

v ■*v ,f • , » -“rg. I . .. ■*' -■* *■ 

\^- ‘:*«'v>v4 _ . M •t5fiiCCi P m T. _ \ - . . • v* . ^' , ‘ ' 




k--rs. 


r ” - ' * * “ - *' * ^ * r ■ ' * 

•" V J *' *. • • , • »"• . - ^ ' . ’ , 

^ r • *4 . ' ‘ \ 

^ f-.v ■• ;:• ' i; : . . , • , 




LIBRPRY OF CONGRESS 



